Longing
by PetitsBisous
Summary: A story concerning the wake of Ienzo/Zexion's parents. I have a headcanon that Even knew them very well, hence why he forms such a paternal bond with Ienzo. Might be unsettling for some to read; viewer discretion advised. (I drew a lot of inspiration for this story from my own experience handling my sister's death back in August 2015. May you rest in peace, Victoria.)


**Longing**

 **x…x**

 **x…x**

It was the first time Ienzo got to wear a suit, at least the first time that he could remember. A small one, black and neatly pressed, fitted perfectly for him. His hand was clasped tightly onto Even's, so tight that his knuckles were pale. Even was wearing a nice suit, too. The man looked down at Ienzo with a bitter smile.

"It's alright," he mumbled. But Ienzo had a strange feeling that the man was half-talking to himself. Ienzo looked up to him with his dark blue eyes. "Are you ready?" Ienzo didn't respond, just looked down the hall, to the room at the end of the hallway that people slowly filed out of. Even gently tugged him forward, and he followed, casting his gaze down, eyes hidden by his bangs.

"Excuse me. Pardon me… The boy and I are going to have a moment alone." Even smiled politely to the other guests as they exited the room, and he and the child stepped in once it was finally empty. Well… almost empty, save for two others. The room was dim; the curtains were all drawn over the windows, there were a several candle fixtures on the wall that were lit, flickering softly, leaving a gentle glow of light. Even closed the door behind them partway, leaving it a crack open so a sliver of light shined through. Ienzo swallowed hard, and now he hugged onto Even's forearm rather than just his hand.

The elder let out a soft sigh. "You know… you don't have to see them if you don't want to." Ienzo stayed quiet, and simply laid his head against the other's sleeve. Even nodded, knowing very well what the boy meant. He'd known him and his shyness for quite some time, having been well acquainted with his parents. "If you insist."

They walked forward, to the back of the room, and stopped just in front of where two caskets lay. Being short, Ienzo was just barely eye level with the caskets, he tried desperately to grow taller by standing tip-toed, but even then he barely could see over them. Even frowned, picking him up and placing him on the steps that lead up to the caskets- they were there purely for aesthetic design but luckily they boosted Ienzo enough so he could get a view.

His father lay to the right, mother on the left, both of them with their eyes closed, hands crossed over their chests. They were dressed in something simple, with minimal makeup on, hair left natural, 'just as it should be' Even had said earlier. Ienzo stared and stared, eyes examining every little detail of them- the scar just below his mother's eye, the birthmark upon his father's neck, her blonde hair, his beard stubble, their pale lips, sunken eyes… They were so familiar, yet at the same time looked so foreign.

Ienzo felt Even's hand hold onto his once more, his thumb rubbing over the back of his hand comfortingly. The boy looked up to him to see he was crying. Not heavy sobs, no, but silent tears down his cheeks. Even so, Ienzo had never seen him cry. The child's brows furrowed, as he looked back to his parents.

Some silence passed as he continued examining them. His tummy slowly began twisting and churning, his lungs hurt and it became harder to breathe. He felt sick. "…Can I… touch them?" he asked quietly, glancing to Even out of the corner of his eyes but not turning his head. The man nodded, just barely. Ienzo hesitantly brought a hand out to his father first, placing it upon his cheek. His skin felt… cold. Cold and waxy… He felt a shiver run up his spine as he withdrew his hand quickly, as if it had stung him. He then shifted closer to his mother, and pet her hair. It felt tougher than it did before, yet it still retained its curls.

Ienzo let his hands fall to his side and he stared once more, for a long time. It was quiet. And then he suddenly grabbed onto his mother's shoulders and shook her gently. "Mommy… Mommy? Wake up, please. Wake up… wake up!"

Even took a step closer to the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ienzo…"

He stopped, and turned to face Even, lip quivering, eyes glossy. "…They're not going to wake up, are they?" He knew the answer. He wasn't so young that he didn't know what death meant. In fact, it was a silly question to ask, really… He knew they were dead. He'd heard the news but a few days ago… Both of them had died in battle. They were always fighting to protect their town, their people… their home, their son.

"No," Even croaked, half a sob, half a choked-up cough. He shook his head. "…No. They're gone."

The boy bit his lower lip, and he looked back to his parents in their caskets. And that's when he felt tears pricking at his eyes. He let out a wail that could shatter even the toughest man's heart- it certainly broke Even's. The older man scooped him up and hugged him tight, rubbing the sobbing boy's back and rocking him. Ienzo felt like his chest would collapse, it hurt so much. They couldn't be gone. They couldn't! They were going to wake up and say that it was all a sick twisted joke, and they would get ice cream together, and, and… they would laugh, Daddy would put him on his shoulders and Ienzo would pretend he was king of the world, and Mommy would laugh too, and say he was the most noble and smartest of them all, and-

He sobbed, clinging to Even as if his life depended on it, burying himself into the man's torso. His usually quiet and unheard voice rose into a near-scream into Even's shoulder, and Even caressed the back of his head, still swaying back and forth, repeating softly over and over in the boy's ear, "It's okay… it's okay."

But there came another whisper.

"Ienzo…" a faint, darker whisper that did not belong to Even. It came from behind them. Ienzo let out a gasp and turned his head towards the caskets. No… it couldn't be. He was imagining things. "Ienzo…" But there it was. …Had his wish had come true? They were… alive? "Ienzo, Ienzo… my precious boy, come closer, closer."

He blinked, looking to Even, and then wiggled out of the blonde's arms, and took a few cautious steps to the caskets, quickly wiping at his face with his sleeves. "…Mommy?"

"Ienzo… closer."

The boy swallowed hard, and crept up to the casket, placing his hands on the side of it as he peered over. But just as he slowly leaned in closer to his mother's face, the corpse's eyes shot open and she reached out for him. Ienzo let out a shriek as her hands clasped around his throat, and he desperately clawed at them, trying to pry them off.

"Ienzo-!" she shouted, lifting him up, his legs kicking and flailing as they no longer touched the floor. He made choking and gasping sounds, he couldn't breathe-! "You let us die… We died protecting you. You didn't help. It's your fault we died, your fault! Your fault…" The boy winced, eyes desperately darting back and forth, trying to find some sort of escape, but she had a vice grip like steel around his throat. He saw his father sit up in his casket behind her, joining the chanting. "Your fault, your fault, your fault!"

"You must join us… die with us, Ienzo. We miss you. We need you with us. Die with us, join us. Join us, join us…"

"E-Even," he gasped out, "help, help me," but his voice was tiny whimpering as he suffocated, barely above a whisper.

"Join us…"

"Your fault…"

"Join us…"

"Your fault…"

 **x…x**

 **x…x**

"NO!"

Zexion awoke with a start, jolting upright in bed and gasping for air, hands instinctively feeling at his throat. Nothing was there. He placed a hand over his chest, and looked around frantically… a boring white room, with a window looking out to the dark smoky night, heart-shaped moon hanging in the air. He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It… was a dream. All a dream… No, a nightmare- a nightmare combined with a flashback of a long-buried memory.

His panting slowed down and he winced, hugging his knees close to his torso, resting his chin down on them. A cold sweat was upon his back, and he shivered. What a terrible nightmare. He felt… what was that? Something stinging at his eyes- tears. He furrowed his brow as he brought a hand up to wipe them away. That… that didn't make sense. He couldn't cry; he had no heart to feel. Perhaps the memories were so strong that the body couldn't forget, he thought to himself.

…Yet he was sure, that somehow, somewhere, deep inside, he knew he felt something. Many things, in fact: Regret. Guilt. Sadness. But out of all of them the fiercest was longing. A longing for his parents. A longing to see them at least once more. To tell them he was sorry. To tell them he loved them. To apologize, for how he had turned out; no doubt he would be a disappointment, he was quite literally… Nobody.

But what did it matter? His hopes were but a mere illusion.

His lip trembled as more tears brimmed to his eyes, and he flopped back down into his bed, burying his head into his pillow, trying to hold back the pain inside. He knew logically, there was no heart to feel this make-believe pain. Yet there was definitely a tightness in his chest that hurt him, a physical feeling.

…Maybe if he asked politely, he would get to skip his mission for today. His non-existent heart just wasn't up to it.


End file.
